To You I Bestow
by coffeegirl02
Summary: TRORY! enough said. Chapter 2 up!
1. Well you better not see me when you come...

"To You I Bestow"  
  
A/N: Same old stuff- I don't own any of these people. Read and Review, because I know you want to! =)  
  
I can't believe I'm doing this.   
  
"I love you, Chris, and I don't want anything to happen to you," I said, as I touched his face, all the while leaning closer and closer to him as I spoke.  
  
He smirked. He wasn't supposed to, but he smirked- he liked it and I knew it. A look of innocence appeared on his face as he said, "Yes, Mary, I know- I love you too."  
  
Mary?!   
  
"CUT!!!!" Suddenly our faces turned around to face the woman standing behind us.  
  
"Mister Du Grey, her name is not Mary. Her name is Christina."  
  
Tristan grinned as he turned to me. "Looks like a Mary to me, Mrs. Simmons."  
  
I felt bad for the woman. If she got any more wrinkles from stress, she would most likely turn into a prune. The morning practice of our school play wasn't going very well. The play, To You I Bestow, had been written by Mrs. Simmons herself, who had taken pride and joy into the project. Of course, she should have realized that if she wanted it to be a success, she should not have casted Tristan as Chris- one of the two main characters. Furthermore, she shouldn't have asked me to be Christina, the other main character. I think the only reason I accepted was for the free coffee.  
  
"Ms. Gilmore, try not to look like you're acting.... be Christina. Become Christina." Mrs. Simmons had obviously ignored the fact that I wasn't the only person doing something wrong. And I'm not trying to make her look bad, but the play is truly a disaster. How could she have been crazy enough to believe that Tristan and I could put on such a fake act? I couldn't even begin to love another guy. Especially if I have a boyfriend!  
  
"Mrs. Simmons, I'm not sure if I can do that." I said this while trying not to roll my eyes. Believe me, it's hard.  
  
"Well then, Rory dear, I'm not sure that you're the right person to play Christina. Perhaps I should get Ms. Gellar to take the part, I'm sure she'd love to." That's when I knew that I had to keep the part- as much as I hated it. I wasn't going to hand one of the lead roles to Paris Gellar.  
  
Tristan didn't look too thrilled with her idea either. "Mrs. Simmons, I'd be happy to help Rory with her acting. I wouldn't want to see her lose her part, especially since she loves it so much."  
  
"That's very sweet of you, Tristan, dear. I'm sure Ms. Gilmore will take you up on your offer. Won't you, Rory?"  
  
Tristan smirked at me. This was going to be interesting. "Uh, yes- sure, Mrs. Simmons."  
  
Just then a man walked up to Mrs. Simmons, who in turn conversed with him before turning back to us. "Wonderful! Now if you'll excuse me, I have some business to take care of. Practice your lines until I come back... I know I can trust you to stay on the ball!" With that our red haired teacher left with the man.  
  
I turned to Tristan, who smirked for the 500^th time today. "Hey, Mary... are you sure you want to practice all these boring lines? Or do you want to come with me to the parking lot to take care of some unfinished business?"  
  
I raised an eyebrow at him. His blue eyes stared back at me intently. "And what unfinished business would that be?"  
  
"You'll just have to find that out for yourself, won't you? Or would you rather stay here and practice the lines? I believe we're up to the part where we kiss--"  
  
He had said the magic words. I jumped up immediately. "Never mind that. I'll come."  
  
"That's more like it, Mary." As we were walking through the halls of Chilton, a thought popped into my head.  
  
"Tristan," I started, "Why did you offer to help me with my lines?"  
  
He turned to look at me. "Isn't it obvious, Mary? If I had a choice of making out in front of thousands of people with either Paris or you, I'd have to choose you. And I'm not going to have you lose your place in the play to her. I'd rather die."  
  
I faked a smile. "I'm flattered."  
  
"You should be."  
  
Rolling my eyes, we continued down the halls and into the parking lot. It was a bit cold outside, and I mentally cursed myself for not bringing my jacket.  
  
"Mary, Mary, Mary, when are you going to learn?" With that said, he handed me his jacket and continued to walk. Putting it on, I stared at him for awhile. For a split second he turned around to me and met my gaze.  
  
"Thanks." I mumbled before turning straight ahead again. Could this be the beginning of a new Tristan?  
  
"You're welcome, Mary. Just remember this the next time I need some heating up."  
  
Nope. Same old Tristan.   
  
To Be Continued! 


	2. I could be sharing someone else's pillow...

To You I Bestow  
  
Chapter 2  
  
A/N: See Chapter 1 for the disclaimer. Well, this is where the R rating comes in =) Thanks to everyone who reviewed... I appreciate it! Please keep them coming... I'd like to know what you think! BTW: I forgot to say this in the previous A/N, but later on in the next few chapters, you'll know the real reason for the name of the story!  
  
"Where exactly are we going? If this unfinished business involves you, a girl dressed in a miniskirt, and a car, I'm out of here."  
  
He surveyed me for awhile before finally answering. "Mary, would I do something like that to you? I prefer to pick up women at night. Makes it more romantic, ya know?"  
  
I rolled my eyes while thinking of something to say that wasn't sarcastic or rude. Unfortunately, it never worked. "Tristan, don't bullshit me. You don't give a shit as to whether or not it's romantic. All you care about is the size of her boobs and whether or not her ass meets up to your standards."  
  
By that time we had stopped walking, and he looked deep in thought- probably trying to think of something to say that was equally as rude. "Well, it's not like you know about romance anyway. What's your idea of a perfect date? Going out with Bag Boy for some lunch at the supermarket? After all, he does get a discount off of various items. Excluding, of course, already marked down goods."  
  
My hand instantly moved to slap his face, but I thought better of it. Obviously he noticed, because a smug grin appeared on his face. "What's the matter, Mary? Don't like it when I insult pretty boy?"  
  
My hand again appeared - but this time it had full contact with his face. I didn't slap him, but my hand was definitely touching his face- his very, very attractive face.  
  
Did I just say that? Shaking my head as if to rid myself of those thoughts, I began to walk again.  
  
"Mary. Wait up." He caught up to me and looked at me for a minute. It wasn't a very comforting feeling. My stomach was churning, and I began to feel nervous.  
  
"What was that all about?" He asked, obviously as confused as I was.  
  
"It was nothing. I was going to slap you, but thought better of it. After all, I wouldn't want to hurt that flawless face of yours." I ended my comment with a joke, forcing myself to laugh. I tried to swallow but it didn't go down easily.  
  
He raised an eyebrow at me, still confused. Hell, I don't blame him. I don't even know what I did that for. And as far as I know, I don't need to think about it anymore.  
  
"Let's just go take care of your unfinished business, Du Grey. Mrs. Simmons should be back soon."  
  
By then we were approaching a black Mercedes surrounded by guys in Chilton uniforms. I recognized some of them- they appeared to be just as perverted as Tristan usually is. I lost count of the number of them that were looking at me. Not just a quick glance- most of them seemed to concentrate on my boobs. The other half of them looked at my ass. It's not like they were actually interested in anything else. For all they cared, a girl could be a hag as long as they could get a good fuck out of her.  
  
Tristan, who noticed what they were doing, rolled his eyes and walked up to one of them- Mike Cummings. They talked for awhile before Tristan handed him some money. Mike disappeared into the back of the trunk and pulled out a box, handing it to Tristan. I was pretty uncomfortable at this point, so I was glad that Tristan started to walk away from the car. I walked quickly to catch up with him, but since he was walking so fast, it seemed pretty much impossible.  
  
"What are you walking so fast for? In a hurry to get away? What's in the box?"  
  
Glancing over at me, he didn't answer until he had placed the box in the trunk of his own shiny black BMW. Probably a birthday present.  
  
"It's none of your business, Mary. And did you know that you ask too many questions at once?"  
  
Forgetting his last comment, I turned to him. "Well, considering that the box looks too mysterious, I think I have a right to know what's in it. After all, you probably needed me to come with you so it didn't look so obvious."  
  
"Whatever you say, Mary. All you need to be concerned with at the moment are your lines for the play." With that said and done, he opened the door to the auditorium where we were rehearsing the play. Fortunately for the both of us, Mrs. Simmons wasn't back yet.  
  
Sitting down in our chairs, we waited for her to come back, which wasn't until 15 minutes later. She looked exhausted, and I decided that I didn't want to know what she had been doing.  
  
"Alright, I think it's time that our rehearsal is over. I'm sorry if I took too long, but you know what happens when you have to take care of unfinished business!"  
  
Rolling my eyes, I thought of the last words that came out of her mouth- unfinished business. Now where had I heard that before?  
  
"Tristan, dear, about helping Rory with her lines- I believe it would be best to do that during school hours, so I can see how she's improving without having you practice at night- I know how much work the teachers assign you students. I'm thinking- you can help her during your free period?"  
  
Tristan looked like Christmas had been canceled. "Uh, yeah, whatever. During our free. Sure."  
  
As Mrs. Simmons nodded her approval, she left the auditorium, leaving everyone who worked on the play sitting there in silence until they realized that practice was over. Running like a stampede, the students emptied the auditorium in a matter of minutes.  
  
"Guess I'll see you tomorrow at the library. Don't forget! I know how much you want do this," Tristan remarked sarcastically.  
  
"Why don't we just forget about the whole thing, Tristan? I don't want to go, and I'm certain that you don't want to go either. After all, I know how hard it is for you to say no." I smirked to myself.  
  
"Much to your dismay, Mary, I don't think I want to forget about it- after all, I'm sure that I'm getting a reward for this. Meet me tomorrow during your free."  
  
Wondering why he actually wanted to help me (except for the fact that he THOUGHT he was getting a reward), I got up and followed him out of the door. Walking into the parking lot, I saw him arrive at his car, and noticed that he seemed very anxious to see whether or not the box was still there. Knowing that it was none of my business, I walked over to his trunk anyway, and peeked in to see what was in the box.  
  
I wasn't too happy with the results. Why would you be, especially if its contents were filled with pot?  
  
"Tristan, what the fuck ---?" I think I overuse that word at times, but hey, shock does that to you.  
  
Noticing that I was there, he looked over to me and jumped from - what was it, embarrassment or surprise? It took him a minute to figure out what he was going to say, probably because he figured that `goody two shoes Mary' would `tattle' on him to the teachers. "I told you it was none of your business, Mary. And I suggest that you keep it that way." With that said and done, he got into the driver's seat of his car, and started the engine. While he was pulling away, I just stood there, too shocked to move. Too angry to move.  
  
Sure, I knew that some people in my school were dumbasses, and I knew that they do shit like that. But... I guess the thought of Tristan doing that never crossed my mind. Sure, he had all the symptoms- being rich was one of them. He probably figured that since he had the money, he might as well put it to a `good cause'.  
  
Trying to tell myself that it wasn't my problem, I got into my mom's Jeep and started driving. Realizing that it was probably a good time to put some music on to clear my mind, I picked up a random CD. Putting it into the CD player without seeing what it was, I picked a random track and started playing it.  
  
I had a dream last night  
'Cause it looked just like a dream,  
I had a dream last night  
But it looked unlike a dream,  
Mercy, mercy, I'm made of parts  
Make me a suit so I can get it off,  
Heaven help me, my head is spin'n round,  
Stop this airplane cause I got to get down  
I had a dream last night, and it fit me like a glove  
I had a dream last night, and it fit me like a glove, right on,  
  
Here's to the Montagues, John Wayne, and Bette Davis,  
And Romeo, he waved before this chorus girl and beggars hair  
Juliet is up in heaven, a pocket full of pills  
And Jesus drives to Mexico, to get her prescription filled  
I had a dream last night, and it fit me like a glove  
It was a scream last night  
It was getting kinda fun (yeah, rock out, whatever)  
  
I had a dream last night, because she looked just like a dream  
I had a dream last night, because she looked just like a dream,  
She was on fire last night, and I was breathing gasoline  
I had a dream last night, and it fit me like a glove,  
I had to scream last night  
Lord of Love  
I didn't know where to shake my butt  
Walked backwards, fucked like a fox  
I was more fucked up than your sister's tackle box  
Three a.m. at five o'clock  
And one of us leaves, and I got shot!  
Shot me down  
Yeah, whatever, rock out  
That's it, that's my rhyme, take it to the streets, bitch.  
  
After the song ended, so many thoughts were running through my head. But there was one main one.  
  
Hm. Exactly what Tristan would have said.  
  
A while later I pulled into the driveway of my house. I couldn't wait to just collapse onto my bed and fall asleep. Who gives a shit about homework? 


	3. And my love for you is better than diamo...

To you I bestow  
  
Chapter 3  
  
A/N: I'm in a writing mood today. Yet again, thanks to everyone who reviewed. This chapter will explain why Tristan had what he had in his trunk!  
  
Dragging myself into my house, I found myself stumbling on to the couch. I suppose that I was too tired to care about homework, or the fact that I had a 10 page paper due to Mr. Medina tomorrow.  
  
Turning on the TV, I switched channels uncomfortably. Damn, isn't there anything good on TV these days? Watching Joey on Dawson's Creek get mugged by some guy just wasn't interesting anymore. Especially to me. I switched the channel, but I was somewhat confused by what it was. Some guy was making food, in competition with some other guy. I actually remember hearing something about this from Lane, who seemed to be overjoyed with the show. Iron Chef. Unfortunately, the Iron Chef lost, and I lost my interest in the show. Time to switch the channel again. Carson Daly discussing Crossroads with Britney Spears- by now, I've had it with TV.  
  
Thank god for the telephone ring. Picking it up, I managed to mumble a "Hello?"  
  
"Rory? It's Lane. I need some help with something?" She seemed pretty desperate, so I figured I should put aside my own problems for the time being.  
  
"What is it?" I asked groggily.  
  
"Well... I don't know what to do about Henry. The problem's pretty obvious- My mom- if she likes him, I won't like him. If she doesn't like him, I'll have to continue to sneak around and I just don't want to do it anymore!" She was out of breath at this point, working herself up too much.  
  
"Lane, calm down for a minute! You might want to discuss this with Henry- after all; he should know that your mom is- well- not normal. If he doesn't believe you, you could always tell him that you have to hide your clothes in a special closet and that all your CDs are under a loose board in your room."  
  
"Thanks for the help and all, but I have reason to believe that it's going to be much more complicated than that. Anyway, I think that I should talk to you tomorrow- my mom is calling me downstairs and I have a feeling that she wants to introduce me to the scientist from Harvard she's been talking about- Oh joy."  
  
"Alright Lane, I'll talk to you later." Since I could barely hang up the phone, I had a feeling that it was time to go to sleep. Falling asleep on the sofa, I fell asleep dreaming of the smell of coffee that would be waking me up tomorrow- and what a cold day tomorrow would be.  
  
It wasn't the smell of coffee that woke me up, but my mom's Ralph Lauren perfume.  
  
"If you don't want to miss out on a fun day at Chilton with `Paris and the Gang', you might want to get off of the couch and into your closet, Rory."  
  
"One more minute, Sergeant Pepper," I said sarcastically as I rubbed my eyes. Walking unsteadily into my room, then my closet, I managed to put on my Chilton uniform. Grabbing my backpack, I ran downstairs to say goodbye to my mom before leaving to catch the bus.  
  
"Oh- and I might be a little late for dinner, Rory- I have to stay at work a little late."  
  
Late- school- teachers- Mr. Medina- 10 page paper- oh shit. "Uh, gotta go! Have fun tonight!"  
  
"But... but... you forgot your coffee!"  
  
"Desperate times call for desperate measures!" I called back, running to the bus stop.  
  
Boarding the bus, I sat down at a window-seat, looking outside. This was going to be a fun-filled day, no doubt about that.  
  
Today is the perfect day for my locker combination not to work. Today, of all days. Fumbling with the lock once again, I tried desperately to make the combination work. No suck luck. Punching the locker in anger, my locker bounced right back, flinging its door in my face.  
  
"Having a bad day, Mary?" It seemed that he was over the dispute that we had yesterday.  
  
"You have no idea," I mumbled, gathering my books into my backpack, while rubbing my face where the locker door hit me. "And the fact that you insist on calling me Mary doesn't help the situation any."  
  
"But, that's your name!"  
  
"My name is Rory. Not Mary. And how would you know if Mary was the perfect name for me? You know nothing about my love life." Maybe it was true that Dean and I haven't gotten further than making out. Maybe I was the goody two shoes that everyone thought I was. But I wasn't ready yet.  
  
"Your whole love life is on display from the way you act."  
  
"Whatever you say." I started to walk away, tired of the conversation that I was having with Tristan.  
  
I could hear his voice from back in the hallways, shouting "Don't forget to meet me during your free!"  
  
Mr. Medina's class had never been so scary before. Sitting down in my seat, I pulled my books out of my backpack and started to stare at a page that we weren't even on yet. I concentrated on every word, hoping that if he saw that I was concentrating, he would somehow forget to collect my paper. No such luck.  
  
"Do you have your paper, Ms. Gilmore?" He smiled at me, probably guessing that I just had not taken it out yet.  
  
"Uh, yea, I do. But I think I forgot to print it out last night, because I got home really late from practice and all--"  
  
"Just get it to me tomorrow."  
  
I could hardly believe that I was off the hook. That easily. "No problem! No problem at all."  
  
With that, Mr. Medina started the class, assigning us to read 50 pages during the period so we could discuss it tomorrow. Fun.  
  
I arrived in the library five minutes late because I forgot to bring my script with me.  
  
Walking over to the table where Tristan was sitting, he looked up and simply said, "You're late, Mary."  
  
I pointed an eyebrow at him, plainly shocked. "What, you're not going to yell at me?" This was too good. If this happens again, I'm going to die of fright.  
  
"Nope. I have better things to do with my time."  
  
Thinking about yesterday's events, I rolled my eyes. "So I see."  
  
He probably guessed that I was thinking about what had happened yesterday. "Look, Rory, it's not what you think."  
  
Wow- this time I'm beyond shocked. He called me by my real name, and now he's attempting to explain something to me. And they say you can't die twice....  
  
"How do you know that's what I'm thinking?"  
  
"Oh come on, what else could you be thinking?" He stared at me, knowing that he had stated the obvious.  
  
"Okay, maybe you're right. Well, if it's not what I'm thinking, then what is it?"  
  
It must have been pretty confidential, because I saw him check around him to see that no one was listening. "I don't smoke pot. Look, I know I may not seem like a great guy to you, but I don't do stupid shit like that."  
  
"Then what the hell is it doing in your car? And why would you pay for it if you're not using it?"  
  
"To sell to other people."  
  
"What?!?!" The librarian glared at the two of us, giving us a look that clearly stated "do it again and you're out of here".  
  
"Would you mind keeping your trap shut?" He glared at me, but I didn't really take note of it. I was too interested in knowing what he was about to say. "Anyway- I know of a few people that'll do anything to get their hands on some. I figure that it's an easy way to make money."  
  
"And what do you need the money for? Come on, your parents are loaded with the stuff." I know that he doesn't think I'm a dumbass. Even Paris knows better- after all, she does think that I'm her only competition at becoming valedictorian.  
  
"Look- you made it your business to know that I have it, and you've made it your business to know what I do with it. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get started on what we're here for."  
  
Well, he made it clear that he didn't want me to know about his personal life. And I suppose that I don't blame him. After all, I'd probably die if he knew about my personal situations.  
  
Sighing, I focused back on the play. 


End file.
